


They’re Shipping Again

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff and Humor, Gen, High School, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Workplace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: Stan Marsh was not sure how to feel about his new job teaching English at South Park High School. While most people were welcoming and friendly, everyone was kind of... strange. Things got even weirder when his students began “shipping” him with the school’s counselor, Kenny McCormick, who he just so happens to have a crush on; and he might just need the kids’ help to make it happen.
Relationships: Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

South Park High took some getting used to. 

The town was much colder than Stan was accustomed to. His former place of employment was situated in a much more populous and warmer city, much closer to his town of residence—which made the daily, forty-five minute drive to South Park even more bitter. 

It also possessed an extremely strange energy. There was always something  _ going on _ . Considering the first “going on” that Stan encountered was a full-out brawl between a group of parents on whether or not MAGA hats should be banned from being worn to schools (which was eventually settled on a coin flip and then forgotten as if nothing happened), he had no idea how to describe the energy. He attempted to do so when his good friend, Wendy, asked, but she ended up just as confused as Stan was. 

Despite this, he felt adequately settled in his second month. His students were relatively good and participative (though also certainly strange like their parents), which was the most important aspect of the job after all, and made for a smoother transition. There were other bright spots as well, including his amazing parking spot and the fellow faculty members he had managed to befriend. Thankfully he got along quite well with his boss, Principal Broflovski, who was the energetic, shrewd embodiment of the phrase  _ firm but fair _ . At first Stan had thought himself a good listener, as Kyle often subjected him to love, passionate rants about various work-related and unrelated issues; however, he quickly discovered that all of his staff would occasionally endure what he learned were “Kyle Speeches”. Stan found them highly entertaining for the most part.

The one to invite him into that inside joke was another one of his new acquaintances, the school’s Physical Education teacher that wished to be referred to solely as  _ Coach D _ . Stan opted to call him Clyde with the rest of the teachers. He was incredibly nice and friendly, and helpful when it came to navigating the non-curriculum related ins and outs of the school. Clyde also reminded him of a parent volunteer recreational baseball coach; he was perpetually dressed in a variety of tracksuits, sunglasses and ball caps, and had a bushy, Freddie Mercury style mustache. Unsurprisingly, he felt much closer to him than the other two English teachers, an elderly woman and a man his father’s aged—both of which had expressed explicit disdain for his multimodal teaching approach. 

So far his favorite coworker to interact with was the school’s guidance counselor. While indubitably overwhelmed as the sole person in the position (and thus responsible for the scheduling and emotional support of every student in the building), he had to be the kindest and most genuine person he had ever met. Kenny (which is also what he allowed students to address him as) was one of those people to know exactly what you need before you even do, and have it done before you even ask. He was a calming presence, able to adapt to any emotion with ease, knowing just when a funny joke, a bit of advice, or no words at all were most beneficial. Stan truly wished he had a counselor like Kenny when struggling through high school ten years prior. 

Though it would be pretty unprofessional to truly acknowledge, Stan also found the man  _ very attractive _ —like,  _ crazy attractive _ . He was well below average height, but the charisma that exuded from his being more than made this fact undetectable. In fact, it contributed to his uncanny ability to be simultaneously  _ hot _ and  _ adorable _ . Even his style walked this line—nearly every day wearing the same fitted black slacks, button down, and vaguely oversized grey, knit cardigan. The sweater made him appear soft and approachable, and the trousers refused to let the world forget about his unfairly firm ass. The attire was also somewhat amusing—as Kenny once addressed that while he  _ had _ other cardigans, he  _ chose _ to drape on the repeat offender to annoy Kyle, who once asked if it would “kill him to switch it up every once in a while”. 

Usually this would be the end of Stan’s acknowledgement of a crush’s physical appearance, but Kenny just so happened to have a perfect face to match his perfect body and personality. He was convinced his hair and jawline were sculpted meticulously by an Olympian god; each time he turned his head, gorgeous, sharp bone structure was on display, and neatly styled sunshine curls bounced with his movements. His eyes were an inviting shade of light brown that matched the dots of freckles decorating his creamy skin. 

Stan really tried to not be interested in the consoler, but it was absolutely impossible; especially when he began a tradition of bringing Stan a French Vanilla iced coffee from a local café. 

“What’s this for?” Stan inquired the first time Kenny dropped the clear plastic cup full of the sweet, caffeinated beverage on his desk before first period. 

Kenny had grinned proudly and answered, “Your new favorite coffee. Welcome to South Park.” 

Stan thought this was a bit presumptuous, but he was not  _ wrong _ ; it was good coffee. The cup’s label reminded him of a conversation the pair had the day before about Kenny’s friend’s coffee shop, Tweek Bros. Apparently the quality of the establishment had dramatically increased and was now not only  _ edible _ , but  _ enjoyable _ . Stan was not sure if it was due to his only other coffee option in South Park being a creepy-looking McDonalds, the fact that it was free and unexpected, or that the beverage had a Pavlovian effect on him since it meant he would get to see  _ Kenny _ , but it did indeed become his favorite coffee. 

On a particularly chilly November morning, the routine changed slightly. Stan was especially worn out from a late night of grading his students first three-page essays, on which nearly everyone earned an A, as the primary purpose of the assignment was to practice MLA format. He had run a bit behind that morning and felt out of whack as a series of irritating events followed his delayed rising (including a windshield that  _ refused _ to defrost as it was against it’s religion). Needless to say, his blond, coffee dealer slipping into his room a few minutes before the bell-chime instantly lifted his spirits. 

“Thanks, dude,” Stan sighed, and was surprised to accept a steamy, cardboard to-go cup as opposed to his usual order. 

Kenny picked up on Stan’s unspoken acknowledgment of the change of pace. A charming smile curled his lips. “I got ya something called a white chocolate mocha. I was assured it’s tasty. If you disagree, feel free to sue me.”

Stan chuckled and scooted a manilla folder aside so there was a spot for his coffee. “Yeah, I’m definitely not gonna sue the guy who brings me coffee every day,” he bit a lip. “You sure you don’t want me to like… Venmo you for all this?” 

It had to have been thirty free coffees by then. Kenny replied how he always did when offered money in exchange for the drink; joked it off. “Nah, man, I don’t have Venmo. It’s the 90’s in my head.” 

“I wish,” Stan scoffed before taking a cautious sip of his latte. 

The other man slotted his hands into the pockets of his navy cardigan. Stan can only imagine the sarcastic praise he earned from Kyle for wearing khaki slacks to grant variety to his half-trying outfits. He also thought he looked  _ really cute _ . He lowered his voice to Stan and raised his eyebrows. “Guess what I get to do today?” 

Occasionally (very occasionally, as Kenny had endless respect for his student’s privacy) Stan would hear a bit of gossip from the counselor’s wealth of knowledge. It was always quite vague, but  _ always _ entertaining, especially the way Kenny told it. After taking down a gulp of the manageably temperature beverage, he tried: “More Adderall dealers?”

“Nah, but if you need any I  _ confiscated _ it,” Kenny curled his fingers into air quotes, chuckled. “Joking. But no, it’s my third teen pregnancy,”

Stan’s dark eyebrows rose. “Really? Wow…” 

Kenny nodded, “Yup. We’ve gotta figure out whether or not she wants to keep it.” 

Stan winched. For the first time leading a Socratic seminar about  _ The Grapes of Wrath  _ seemed like a better option. “Jesus. You sure you don’t want  _ two _ coffees today?” 

Kenny laughs, “What do you think the Adderall is for?” 

With a wink, Kenny turned away and headed out of Stan’s classroom, leaving him with a broad grin across his face. 

“Uh… Mr. Marsh, can I ask you something?” 

Stan was snapped from his revere when a student at his side obtained his attention. He turned to address a bespectacled teenage girl called Abigail. He spun in his swivel chair to face her, “What’s up?” 

Abigail was blushing slightly, which suddenly rendered Stan quite afraid of whatever the question was. He had been through students displaying  _ affection _ for him and it was  _ extremely _ uncomfortable. Though this was not the case, the revelation did nothing to comfort him: “Are you and Kenny dating?” 

It was the very last thing Stan had expected. Completely taken aback, he stared blankly at the expectant teenager’s face. He heard gawfuls from a few neighboring students, which reminded him his severe need to squash the rumors. “Uh, no, no, we’re not… No,” 

Abigail shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, sorry, it just kind of seemed like it… You know, since he’s always coming in here or bringing you coffee,” 

“He isn’t  _ always _ coming in here,” Stan defended before sending a glare to another cackling student. She pursed her lips together when receiving the disapproval, but remained amused. Shaking his head and sighing, he addressed Abigail again, “who told you we’re dating?” 

“Well, nobody really, it’s just—“ 

A third party chimed in: “It just kinda seems like you’re into each other?” 

Stan’s break had completely pumped the breaks. Especially when yet  _ another _ student chimed in: “Totally! There’s just, like, a lot of se— _ tension _ whenever he comes in.” 

The suggestion made Stan’s eyes go wide, and decide it was definitely time to start class. He let out a jaded huff and stood. He trudged over to the SmartBoard to prepare for the video morning announcements and Pledge of Allegiance—for which about half of his students kneeled for. He wished he could join them without getting fired. 

He also wished he did not develop a sustained train of thought revolving around Kenny. He was completely unable to derail it through all of his classes, haunted by the fear that he was being way too obvious with his attraction toward Kenny, and elated by the prospect of Kenny returning these affections in a way that was obvious to a bunch of teenagers.

Honestly, that did not say anything good about his romantic capabilities.

_ 

“Well, I really haven’t heard anything about—Trevor! What I tell you about those weak ankles!” Clyde interrupted himself to spout after a student that had stumbled during the gym class’s warm-up lap, “You gotta stretch those porcelain babies out before we get going!”

“Sorry, Coach D.” the student grumbled and excused himself to the sideline of the gymnasium, doing ankle rolls. 

Clyde shook his head while smacking a large wad of pink bubble gum. “Unreal,” he muttered to himself before returning his attention to Stan, who had decided to visit his fellow educator during his plan period. There would have been no way he would be able to focus on actual planning with the fear of a scandal involving himself and Kenny floating around. Clyde assured him, “I haven’t heard anything about the two of you. I never even noticed you two liked each other!” 

Stan huffed, “We  _ don’t _ , is the thing. Well, I mean, I just… I don’t even know if he’s, like,  _ gay _ or anything, so I have—“ 

“Kenny?” Clyde questioned for confirmation. Stan nodded. “Yeah, I think he’s half-and-half.” 

Stan furrowed his brow. “Half-and-half?” 

Clyde chuckled as he folded his arms over his chest. “Y’know, bi. I think, at least. He’s part of the school’s L-B-G-T-Q-plus Club. I’m pretty sure he started it—Hey!” 

Stan stifled an eye roll as he watched Clyde advance toward a pair of students that had begun shoving each other. He placed his hands on his hips like a scolding mother and scolded them, words that should have been inaudible from across a gym full of people, but he could make out most of. “What is this?! You two are best friends! You think I’m training you to be in a biker gang where we hit each other to show we care?! No! This is  _ physical education _ , boys!  _ P.E. _ ! In this class we have respect for our  _ own _ and  _ each other’s _ bodies! We are learning to train and sculpt them to be the full blown warriors we know we can be!”

The students’ faces were absolutely red in attempts to hold in the mocking laughter that they let escape the second Clyde’s back was turned to them. Stan wanted to laugh as well, but he was in Coach D’s direct line of sight. Though the words sounded borderline insane coming from Clyde’s mouth, it was an admittedly good message. Readjusting his cap, the coach returned to the topic of Stan’s inquiry, “These kids are just begging me to make ‘em run laps today. Anyways,  _ sorry _ , I’m pretty sure Kenny’s single, and at least a  _ little _ gay, so if you’re interested in him you should go for it! Who wouldn’t want a cool guy like you? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go show these clowns how to play badminton!” 

Stan watched as Clyde trod to the center of the gymnasium and barked orders to the teenagers about setting up nets for which to play. While mildly distracted by the impressive speed at which the class arranged a row of mobile nets for the unit, the whole Kenny situation was consuming his thoughts. Then, not only did his students surmise that they were in a relationship, he had also learned that it was at least  _ plausible _ for that to be a reality since he was apparently  _ half-and-half _ . 

As he left the gym to return to his significantly warmer classroom, he tried and failed to come to a conclusion on how to handle the whole thing. 

-

“See ya tomorrow, Mr. Marsh!” 

“Bye!” 

“See you!”

Stan fielded each farewell with a friendly smile and wave. When each student of his final period vacated, he let out a sigh of relief. The end of the day meant the opportunity to speak with Kenny and attempt to casually extract more information from him. He figured if students were interrogating  _ himself _ on their therolized romantic entanglement, that Kenny must have been approached about it as well. Students were understandably far more comfortable and friendlier with the other man. 

Crafting a mental script of what to say as he traced between the desks to put chairs up as a courtesy to the janitors, a piece of notebook paper caught his eye, flat against the linoleum floor. A grunt escaped his lips as he bent over to pick it up. Just as he went to crumble the scrap, a drawing on the other side caught his attention. 

It took him a moment to realize what the drawing was. At first glance, it was a characterization of two men in a warm embrace. On the left was a grinning, dark-haired man with comically large eyes set on a smaller, closed-eyed man. The shorter was drawn with a shock of blond, curly hair and a grey sweater. Stan’s jaw slackened. 

It was Stan and Kenny. 

He came to the conclusion before he even read the phrase  _ Stenny McMarsh _ written in cursive between two bubbly hearts beneath the picture.

Stan stood frozen, staring in confusion for an unknown quantity of time. When he snapped out of the horrified stance, he figured that perhaps seeing Kenny wasn’t the best idea. 

-

“Stanley?” 

“Huh?” Stan muttered dumbly when Kyle’s stern voice drew him back to reality. He fluttered his stare up from his peanut butter sandwich to the vaguely concerned red-head. 

Kyle raised an eyebrow at him, “You stopped replying to me a couple minutes ago. Everything okay?” 

As much as Stan would like to have chalked it up to being bored of Kyle’s rant about being forced to implement more testing into the senior class’ curriculum, he had become completely distracted when Kenny had sauntered into the faculty lounge for a moment and had shot him a wink. Usually the man’s flirtatious gestures merely made him grin slightly or maybe even blush, though he knew the behavior was not reserved solely for him—that day, it ignited his insides. 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his words: “Yeah, it’s just… something sort of… weird happened yesterday.” 

Kyle humed as he stabbed at his salad with a fork. “Weird how?” 

Stan puffed out a sigh, “Okay, this is gonna sound… really weird so please don’t fire me. I did not ask for this.” 

“Stan, please don’t show me a love letter from a student,” Kyle groaned, stiffening when Stan reached into his jean’s pocket. “just don’t even  _ acknowledge _ it, letting them down gently never works.”

“It honestly might be even weirder than that.” 

With that, and a cocked eyebrow from the principal, Stan unfolded the drawing he procured the day before and laid it flat on the table between them. Kyle set down his plastic utensil and lifted the paper to examine it. Stan bit a lip and watched his face become increasingly disturbed. Wide brown eyes finally wandered back to Stan after lowering the paper. “They’re shipping again.” 

Trying and failing to field the completely unexpected reply, Stan asked, “They’re  _ what _ ?”

“The students are shipping!” Kyle grunted, louder, and jumped to his feet. He plucked his blazer from the back of his chair and pointed to the drawing as he slung the garment back over his shoulders, “Care if I take this?”

“I—No, but, dude, what the hell is  _ shipping _ ?” Stan questioned pointlessly, fully aware that Kyle was on a mission and would be unlikely to reply. 

“Just—ask Kenny! I gotta stop this!” 

Sighing out a scoff to himself at being left alone and utterly bemused, Stan mentally prepared himself to approach Kenny about the matter after school. 

_

It was a half-way through the final period of the day when Stan was effectively traumatized further. 

“Mr. Marsh?” a girl called Cathleen addressed him. She was feigning nonchalance. “How tall are you?” 

Eyes wide, Stan stuttered, “Uh—um, I, don’t really know, actually. Uh, why?” 

She shrugged and returned her gaze to her cellphone. He did not miss Cathleen’s friend beside her whispering, “Just put 5’9”. That seems about right.” 

“Yeah, Ken’s super short,” a third chimed in. Her name was Amber, and the way she was scribbling something into a notebook set off alarms in his head. 

After his conversion with Kyle, he had Googled what “shipping” meant—and he was fairly certain that was what was happening. 


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long time since a  _ guy _ caused Stan’s heart to  _ palpitate. _

He tried to convince himself that the feelings were just  _ nerves _ at the prospect of the very strange “shipping” situation. However, he could not lie to himself when confronted with how  _ perfect _ he found Kenny. 

The end of the found him trudging down to Kenny’s smaller office within the main office. He nodded to the secretaries and kept a quick pace to avoid falling into a long conversation about football with one of them (which usually he did not mind). Just as he was about to slip between the cracked door, he stopped in his tracks, seeing that Kenny was with a student. 

“—and maybe that’s just what you need! Yeah, she’ll be there, but so will other friends that genuinely support you. Maybe it will make you comfortable enough with each other to get that closure you need.” 

“It’s just hard to even  _ look _ at her…” 

“Well, you know your feelings better than anyone, even if you can’t put them into words. That’s what you  _ gut _ is.” Kenny slapped his stomach, causing the young girl to giggle. He grinned and continued, “Trust yourself. If you feel ready, go for it and have fun! If you need more time, then give it to yourself. Being patient with yourself is really important when you’re dealing with a breakup.” 

“You’re right… I’ll just have to decide whether or not I’m ready.” 

“Right,” he assured with a nod.

When the pair shifted toward the exit, a jolt of panic told Stan to sprint away from the door. He ran a short distance, questioned his sanity, and waited for the teenager to leave the office. While waiting, he could not stop a smile stretching his lips when thinking of how fucking  _ perfect _ Kenny was. He had never met another school counselor that took time to talk a student through a break up. 

As he witnessed the girl wave good-bye to Kenny, he started to trace back to the office. Kenny was in the doorway, returning the student’s wave, before noticing Stan’s presence on the other side. Stan felt absolutely undeserving of the dimpled, sweet smile that splayed across the man’s gorgeous face. 

“Hey there, Mr. Marsh,” the blond greeted, slipping his hands into his dress pant pockets. “lookin’ for some counseling or just ‘lil ole me?” 

Stan chuckled nervously and stopped at the door. “Uh… maybe both, honestly. I got something sort of… odd I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Concern crossed Kenny’s face, but his grin did not falter. He backpedaled into his office as he spoke, “I love odd. C’mon in,” 

Stan had only been inside the room a few times. It was quite small, but Kenny utilized the space effectively, and created an incredibly comforting ambiance. Instead of the desk being a barrier between student and faculty member, Kenny had pushed it flushed to the wall, and in the center of the room were two cozy, brown sofa chairs. A patterned area rug on the ground offered more softness to the space. The walls were lined with either a tall book shelf, a cork board housing flyers regarding school activities, clubs, classes, and events, or shelf of small, random objects above a few inspirational posters (including one that read  _ love is love, feminist, black lives matter, no human is illegal, kindness is everything.  _ and another that simply said _ PROTECT TRANS KIDS).  _ There was a candle melt giving off the faint smell of candy. Best of all, Kenny stood in the center with his arms crossed, waiting with an inviting smile for Stan to reveal the  _ oddity. _

Stan let a long sigh fall from his lips before beginning. “So… this is gonna sound super weird, but, like… some of the kids have been talking about us, and—“ 

“And they’re shipping us,” Kenny finished the thought. Stan flicked a barely surprised stare to Kenny’s now vaguely smug expression. “Yep, I’ve heard about  _ Stenny. _ ” 

Stan opened his mouth to reply, but could not find the words. Eyes scanning Kenny’s expression rendered him more unequipped to handle and comprehend the situation. Instead of trying as he had been for days then, he felt a laughter bubble in his chest. A quick chuckle escaped his lips before he could control it. When Kenny’s smile curled into something more amused, Stan could no longer control the reaction at all. The two began cracking up together. 

“Oh my god,” Stan huffed when he was able to compose himself again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated, “why are teenagers so goddamn weird?” 

Kenny chuckled, “You’re asking the wrong fuckin’ cowboy.” 

Stan let his hand slide across his face before looking to Kenny again. “Kyle was super unhelpful about the whole thing. He just said  _ they’re shipping again _ , and then told me to talk to you.” 

Kenny snorted. “Yeah, that makes sense. There was an… incident a while ago with the students  _ shipping _ teachers together, so, he’s pretty neurotic about it.” 

“What happened?” Stan wondered. 

“It’s a long story,” Kenny sighed, paused. He peered between the analog clock above the door and Stan. “You hungry?” Thinking on it for a second, he definitely was, considering lunch with Kyle was cut short. He nodded, and Kenny went to his desk to shut off his computer. “I’m fuckin’ starving. Wanna get some food and I’ll fill you in on the South Park High drama?” 

“Sounds… partially unnerving, but sure.” 

Kenny laughed and leaned down to lift his over-the-shoulder bag. He fluffeded his honey stare to Stan and sent him a smirk, “Don’t worry, baby, I won't try to make our ship canon just yet.” 

Though he hardly understood the lingo, the sentiment caused Stan’s palms to moisten. Kenny slung his bag over his shoulder and procured a set of car keys from his top desk drawer. Stan watched the keys swing around Kenny’s purple-painted finger before remembering to verbalize his thoughts again. “Let me go grab my stuff.” Kenny nodded, instructing him to meet him in the teacher parking lot. 

Stan gave thanks for the brisk walk to his classroom to obtain his car keys, wallet, and binder of homework pages to grade. He used his time in solitary to compose himself; it was  _ just _ grabbing food with  _ just _ a coworker. Kenny  _ may _ be attractive and his students  _ may _ believe there is something between them, but it is unprofessional to express (or even have) the same desires. He repeated the stay professional mantra in his head until he found Kenny standing near the back exit of the school, tapping away on his phone to kill time. 

“Hey,” Stan greeted, exuding no increased sense of professionalism and composure that he strived to obtain. 

Kenny clicked his phone off and granted Stan a grin. “Ready?” 

Stan nodded and they began striding toward their vehicle. He offered, “I can drive if you want… I need to start paying you back for my coffee.” 

“You don’t, though, for real,” Kenny snorted, though seemingly accepting Stan’s offer as they meandered toward his Toyota. “I get it basically free from my friend, Tweek.” 

“Isn’t that the name of the place you go?” Stan questioned on approaching the silver vehicle. He pressed the click remote and granted them access. 

On sliding into the passenger's seat, Kenny explained, “Yeah, it’s named after him and his family. His name’s Tweek Tweak. First name Tweek, last name Tweak.” 

Stan paused to send Kenny a dumbfounded gape, ignoring how much he enjoyed the other man’s amused expression. “That’s… his real first and last name? Like, on his birth certificate?” 

“Affirmative.” 

“Fuck, that’s awful,” Stan sighed, shaking his head as he pushed the car into reverse and backed out of his assigned spot. “does he have a brother named  _ fiend _ or  _ junkie _ ?” 

Kenny barked a laugh. “Nah, it’s just him. Worst part is he doesn’t even have a middle name,” 

“Jesus, they didn’t give that kid a  _ single _ chance.” 

“Nope. Sometimes I honestly feel guilty for calling him that, but I think he’s made peace with it. He’s a huge fuckin’ spaz, but he’s good guy,” 

Stan paused before turning out of the school parking lot and asked, “Where should we go?” 

Kenny hummed, then pointed to the right. “Do you like burgers? There’s a pretty good place over this way,” 

“Oh, um, I’m actually a vegetarian,” Stan revealed, feeling unnecessarily guilty to even slightly disagree with something Kenny suggested. 

The blond raised his eyebrows, “Oh, cool, I’m sorry, I didn’t know! In that case,” he made two finger guns toward their left. “The only salad I will actually eat is this way. It’s  _ really _ good.” 

Stan smiled at the by far kindest and funniest reaction to telling people he did not eat meat he had ever gotten. “Perfect,” he replied and spun the steering wheel to the left. 

“So, Mr. Marsh,” Kenny began, crossing his legs as if he were about to begin an interview, “is this your first time being shipped?”

“Is it  _ not _ your first time?” Stan retorted, a strange spark of jealousy being set off in his mind. He pushed that ridiculous feeling aside and focused on Kenny’s answer. 

“Only with a few lunch ladies. But I can’t deny giving the kids plenty of ammunition. They’re pretty fuckin’ hot. But you and me are the most popular thing I’ve been included in.” 

Stan had a  _ billion _ questions. He began to feel pretty overwhelmed by the phenomenon, and Kenny must have taken notice, and attempted to provide context. “This town’s had a pretty strange shipping culture for years. It was what I can only describe as  _ normalized _ back when I was in high school and these Asian exhange girls started shipping the only two gay kids in our class, Tweek and Craig,” 

“Tweek’s gay?” Stan blurted. 

“As a bag of popcorn,” 

Stan swallowed, shifted the subject. “So, were Tweek and Craig actually a thing?” 

Kenny snorted. “Hell no. They’re the least compatible people on the planet. But that really didn’t seem to matter. All of a sudden there were all these drawings and stories about them floatin’ around. It was super bizarre but people seemed to really get into it.” 

“That sounds, like… fetishy,” Stan spoke slowly, hoping the word was not controversial. 

Kenny pursed his lips and nodded his head. “It’s a lot of things. I mean, I know there’s a whole, huge fanfiction community and it usually isn’t too bad, but I always felt really fuckin’ weird about people I  _ know _ being shipped. Anyways, they decided to try and stop it by pretending to break up, and when that blew up in their faces, they started this fake relationship to get people off their backs… It was wild.” 

“And… people still do it?” 

“Yup,” Kenny confirmed popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “Like I said, it's just a town norm now. A couple years ago we had a teacher quit over it, though. These girls were insisting he was in love with our superintendent—who is a walkin’ pile of human garbage—and he couldn’t take it anymore. He actually tried to kill himself by jumpin’ out the window. It might have been unrelated, but these girls were real weird about it. So, Ky basically  _ outlawed _ all shipping.” 

Stan recalled the superintendent of their district, Eric Cartman, being on the board of interviewers when he applied to teach at South Park High. He agreed that he was a pile of human garbage—brash and uninterested, and often flat-out rude. Stan stared at the road ahead and felt a bit nervous as the conversation shifted to their particular “ship”. 

“I run the LGBTQIA-Plus support group, so I think I was the first to hear about me and you bein’ put together. If I’m being honest, I was kinda flattered,” Kenny said, earning a curious glance from Stan. He granted him a winsome smirk, “I’m glad my kids think I could pull such a hot guy.” 

Stan fought the instinct to slam the breaks and let them peel off onto the side of the road. Instead he felt his entire face flush and a sudden surge of self-hatred for still being an absolute  _ mess _ at the age of 30 when complimented. He let himself grin nervously at Kenny and reply, “I, uh, guess I could say the same… So, did they, like,  _ tell _ you they were shipping you?” 

The irritatingly sexy smirk remained against Kenny’s lips even as he moved on from the topic of Stan’s attractiveness. “Not in so many words, but I kinda figured when they started asking me about Mr. Marsh every fuckin’ day. Then Kyle showed me that neat ‘lil drawing you found. Gotta say,” Kenny sighed, tossing his hands up in the air, “Amber’s got potential, but she loves to exaggerate my height.” 

Stan raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know it was Amber?” 

“I know her drawing style. She’s in the LBGBTQIA-Plus Club,” Kenny explained. 

“Is there, like… a shorter name for the club?” 

Kenny sighed, “Yeah… they like to call it  _ Gay Boi Hours.  _ I think it’s sorta reductive. Especially since most of ‘em identify as female. But, I got outvoted.” 

Stan had to have a laugh at the information. He also took a moment to admire how in tune with the kids Kenny seemed to be; taking a vote on what a group was to be called, not berating them for  _ shipping _ him with a coworker, and knowing them well enough to recognize the style in which they draw was impressive for someone who did not even teach classes. 

“You can come check it out if you want.” Kenny offered with a grin. “You can confront the shippers at the source.” 

Stan chuckled again and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I’d like that…” 

“Sweet.” Kenny replied with a smile. 

The rest of the drive consisted of Stan following Kenny’s directions to the restaurant. They had an unexpectedly amazing time and  _ really _ hit it off. The pair shared much in common, and most importantly so, an eerily similar sense of humor. They found they have the same favorite comedy movies, shows, and  _ Saturday Night Live _ skits. Something Stan appreciated equally (if not more) was a passion for a trauma-informed, opened-minded, compassionate approach to education and counseling that seemed so rare in a profession of underpaid and jaded people. The pair were simply in sync on many levels.

Stan was also pleased to collect the bill, hellbent on repaying Kenny for all the coffee, though the other man remained insistent that he was more than happy to do so. 

“It keeps the shippers on their toes,” Kenny told him regarding the matter with a cheeky wink. 

After they had made it back to the school for Kenny to be dropped off and agreed to do it again sometime, Stan granted himself a moment to catch his breath and smile. It had been an absurdly long time since he had such a good time with someone other than his closest friends. Meeting someone he  _ really _ liked was  _ really _ rare. 

He definitely understood the appeal of  _ Stenny. _


	3. Chapter 3

After a day of blushing fiercely anytime he merely saw Kenny, Stan decided it was time he consulted his two best friends on what to do about the matter. Bebe and Wendy had always been better at making his decisions than he had, and he trusted them implicitly. 

His offer to cook for the women was mercilessly rejected and he ordered pizza for them instead. As they sat around the living room of Stan’s humble apartment and ate, Wendy addressed their crass refusal to accept Stan’s homemade offer: “The last time you cooked food for us, it was breakfast for dinner and you burnt  _ everything. _ ”

Stan rolled his eyes and spoke behind a bite of food, “That was a really long time ago.” 

“That was last year, baby.” Bebe reminded him with a giggle. 

“Whatever, ordering pizza is easier anyways. You don’t deserve my effort and love.” Stan jested. 

“I’ve gotten along just fine without it thus far.” Wendy snorted sardonically.

Bebe wondered, shifting the subject to why they were summoned, “So you’re having some boy troubles?” 

Stan sighed and nodded. It was  _ way _ more embarrassing to talk about in person, but after years of the two forcing him to reveal any details of a romantic endeavor, he was pretty used to feeling exposed. “Yeah, it’s Kenny… I think I really like him.” 

Wendy cocked a dark eyebrow. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Bebe chimed in. “you’re basically in love with him. You talk about him in the group chat  _ nonstop _ .” 

“It’s not nonstop,” the man challenged, chased by an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t know what to do. I mean, I know it's not against the rules for us to date, but is it unethical? Would it only fuel the shipping or would it make us less of an item of interest? Would he even want to date me or is he just nice?” 

“From what you’ve told me, it definitely seems like he likes you! Especially since he said you should come to his club! It means he also values the way you teach and interact with the kids.” Wendy pointed out.

“Plus, didn’t you go out on a date?” Bebe added matter-of-factly. 

“It wasn’t a date, it was an impromptu co-worker one-on-one get together.” Bebe and Wendy exchanged disbelieving glances. After a moment, the three fell into laughter together and Stan shrugged, “I mean, it wasn’t really a date, but… I wouldn’t have minded if it was? But at the same time, I’m also scared that my boss will somehow find out and chew me out for dating a coworker… I don’t know.” 

“I doubt your boss would really care that much, he seems nice.” Bebe stated. 

“Yeah, but he’s really freaked out by the whole shipping thing.” 

“I don’t know why you think that is so strange. Do you remember when we all wanted Mr. Cook and Mrs. Hannon to get together in the ninth grade?” Wendy chimed in as she reached forward for another slice of pizza. 

Stan considered this point for a moment and sighed, “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure nobody drew pictures of them.” 

“Wouldn’t be surprised, honestly.  _ Shipping _ isn’t a new thing, it just had a new name.” Bebe added to Wendy's point. 

Leave it to his friends to make  _ him _ feel weird for not understanding shipping—and make him question his instinctual reaction to a bunch of teenage students fictionalizing him in a relationship with another faculty member. Maybe it is normal and generally innocent, but he couldn’t help but feel… scrutinized. 

“You know what you’re doing again, though, right?” Wendy asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

Stan sensed that she was going to call him out about something—she always did. “No,” he said, “why do you think I asked you to handle this for me?” 

Bebe could not help but smirk at the two as the other woman elaborated, “You’re putting too much stock and worry into something that isn’t even set in stone—you always romanticize things.” 

Stan sent Bebe a look requesting back up, and she capitalized on Wendy’s statement. “Just take it easy, hon. See where it goes! I know you’re a serial monogamist but that doesn’t mean you can’t test the waters a bit with this guy.” 

As per usual, be conceded to his friend’s points and resolved to take a more casual frame of mind into his situation with Kenny. It was

not life or death—just a guy he was into. 

Simple. 

_

“Have they asked you your birthday?” 

“No.” 

“Favorite food?” 

“Nope.” 

“Height?” 

“N—Oh, yeah, actually.” 

“Damn it!” 

Kyle slammed his pen down on the desk before him and rubbed the corners of his eyes. 

Stan raised a curious eyebrow as he rested his arms on the surprisingly comfortable visitor’s chair. He had not been in his friend’s office since he had been hired, and it was exactly as he remembered—neat, clean, and cozy. He asked, “What does that mean?” 

The other man returned his attention back to Stan, “It means they’re writing stories.” 

“Stories?” 

“Yeah, like,  _ fanfiction _ ,” Kyle grumbled, shaking his head. “It’s a full on ship.”

The conversation was another very strong example of how he often felt as though he had landed in some weird cartoon when he began working at South Park High. The principal had been increasingly vexed by the student’s activities, asking Stan for daily reports and to bring any new ‘evidence’ straight to him. He is pretty sure he is trying to recruit students to offer information as well (but he can’t be sure). 

Stan did his best to keep in mind what Bebe and Wendy advised—to not take it too seriously and remember it’s actually somewhat normal. When he thought about it, if either he or Kenny were a woman bringing or receiving coffee from each other,  _ every _ student would probably think they were an item. 

Writing stories was pretty strange, though. “Don’t they have like… celebrities or fictional characters they could do this with?” 

“You would  _ think!”  _ Kyle exclaimed. “Those are the only relationships I give a shit about. And even  _ then _ …” Stan watched him rise and gesture towards his door, “You can go; thanks for coming in to let me know.” 

Stan pushed himself upright as well and granted the other man a sympathetic smile. “If it makes you feel any better, this happened in my school too when we were growing up. Everyone cared for a month and it passed. I’m sure it’ll be the same for this.” 

Kyle grinned back half-heartedly. “Let’s fucking hope.” 

With a nod Stan retreated. Though the whole thing was pretty ridiculous, he couldn’t help feeling bad for the guy and how worked up it had him—especially since he did not know that Kenny was his coffee (and this was apparently romantic in the eyes of teenagers. Their standards were just as low as Stan’s). 

As he made his way out of the office, he glanced at the analog clock above the secretary’s desks. It was almost 3:02 on a Wednesday, meaning Kenny’s club would soon be starting. He felt a pang of guilt for missing it, but given the circumstances, he thought it would be best. Not that he was avoiding Kenny himself, just any potentially  _ shippy _ situations. 

After Stan had returned to his classroom, gathered his belongings, and was on his way down the corridor to leave for the day, his name was called from behind. “Hey, Mr. Marsh!” 

He stopped to turn, recognizing a student from not only his class, but also Kenny’s club (and because of her distinct Australian accent). Stan granted her and another girl in her company a smile. “Hi, Amber.” 

She flashed a grin his way and continued to approach him, barely having to look up as she was quite tall. “Are you coming to Gay Boi Hours today?! Kenny said you might turn up!” 

“Oh, uh, I’m—“ 

“We’re headed there now if you wanna join us! It’s not in a secret location or anything like that, but we can take you,” She offered. 

He glanced between the two girls’ expectant gazes, wondering how he would be able to turn them down. He did not figure it out. “That—would be great, thank you. Kenny never told me where to meet.” 

“He can be a bit scatterbrained,” Amber said with a chuckle. “Come along, then. This is my girlfriend, by the way, Lexi.” 

The pretty brunette beside Amber waved to him. It was just then he realized their hands were clasped together. 

The three made casual conversation on the way to the library. According to Amber, they congregated in the small computer lab located in the back of the space. It did not surprise him that he had never been back there considering it was only his second quarter there. When they arrived, Kenny was already there, and chatting with another student of his, Cathleen, and two boys. They were the exact opposite physique; one short and stocky, and the other tall and scrawny. 

“Look who I found walking about!” Amber announced gleefully, gesturing toward Stan behind her. The three teenagers and Kenny turned their heads in unison, and he granted them an unsure wave. 

“Mr. Marsh!” Cathleen cheered. 

“Hey, welcome!” Kenny added with a bright smile. 

Stan completed the short distance to Kenny’s side and grinned back at him. “Thanks for having me.” 

“Um, Kenny… No offense, but, is he even queer?” The taller boy inquired with a wary eye. 

The shorter one clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and spouted, “Man, who gives a shit.” 

Kenny remained grinning kindly as he said, “Allies are welcome in this club, Reed.” 

“I mean, I  _ know, _ I was just, like,  _ curious, _ ” Reed amended, holding up his hands in mock submission. 

Amber shook her head, “Don’t mind Reed, he’s a gay purist.” 

“I’m not a purist!” Cathleen and the shorter boy scoffed sarcastically in unison, which fueled Reed’s defensive fire, “I was just asking a  _ question!” _

“I—um, I’m, I am  _ bi, _ if that helps.” Stan interjected, feeling like it was important to add in the moment but sort of immediately regretting it. It was one of the first times he actually verbalized his sexual orientation; it felt weird, especially surrounded by teenagers he barely knew. 

Amber, Cathleen, and Lexi quickly exchanged wide-eyed glances, and Reed threw out a dramatic gesture, “See, now I know.” 

“What an introduction,” Kenny chuckled, and peered back over at Stan. “We’re waitin’ on one more and then we can start. In the mean time,”—he clicked his eyes back to the kids—“stop harassing Mr. Marsh and chat amongst yourselves.” 

Stan laughed when they all begrudgingly agreed. “Seems like a fun group.” 

“They’re certainly somethin’,” Kenny agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really, though, thank you for coming. They were really excited. They’ve never had a teacher show up before.”

“Oh, yeah, I was looking forward to it.” Stan fibbed. Now that he was there, however, he had no complaints. The kids were entertaining so far, and Kenny looked really good in a plain button with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was also less unruly than usual, but still bouncy and soft. 

“Sorry guys!” a few moments later as the final member of the club rushed in. Stan admired the dark-skinned girl’s Good Charlotte t-shirt and dyed green locs. 

“No worries,” Kenny assured as everyone passed back and forth greetings with the final addition to the congregation. Once everyone settled, he lifted his voice again, “Alright, kiddos, since we got a new spectator here today why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves real quick. If you want, you can give your pronouns or why you're here, whatever ya want. Wanna start, Mr. M.?” 

“Sure, Mr. M.,” Stan quipped, then turned to find all eyes in him. He grinned, “Hey, uh, thanks for letting me sit in today. I’ve never—seen anything like this and I think it’s really awesome. Oh, I’m Mr. Marsh, by the way, I teach English.” 

A bout of nerves twisted his stomach when he watched the newest girl turn to Amber and Lexi with a quizzical gaze—-Amber merely nodding and grinning in response. He felt as though every move he made would be scrutinized, so he definitely kept his physical distance from Kenny. 

“Thanks for joinin’ us,” Kenny said again, then gestured to the kids, who had created a semi-circle in the narrow space between computer tables. “Let’s just go around this way.” 

He pointed to the short guy in the chair closet to Kenny. With a short wave, he began, “Hey, I’m Elliot, uh, I use he/him pronouns, and I am trans, so. Yeah,” 

“Hi, Elliot,” Amber droned jokingly, mocking the stereotypical meeting response. 

“Hey, I’m Cath, I’m bi. She/her.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to say I’m bi,” Elliot added, and sent Cathleen a smirk, “or just Cath-sexual.” She giggled and rolled her eyes as he reached his hand out to grasp hers.

“As you heard, I’m Reed, I’m gay, he/him prounouns, and I’m the only one here who’s not cuffed.” The other boy announced with a judgmental glare fixed on the couple to his left. 

Elliot replied, “I offered plenty of times for you to enter out relationship, but you keep sayin’ no.” 

“Shut up.” Reed laughed and gestured to his right. “Go on, Ranga.” 

Amber snorted at the nickname her hair color earned her before taking her turn: “I’m Amber, call me she or they, I’m not really fussed, and I’m also gay.” 

“I’m Lexi, I’m a lesbian, and I am here because this is my family.” the next member introduced, and it was the first time Stan realized she too had a foreign accent that he could not quite place.

After a chorus of  _ aw’s _ , the final introduction was exchanged. “I’m Cait, they/them pronouns.” 

Stan made a mental note that Cait was not a  _ girl _ , and returned his attention back to the administrator of the group. “Alright, guys, who’s turn is it to present their queer historical figure?” 

“Wait, aren’t you gonna introduce yourself, Ken?” Cath inquired instead of anyone answering the original question. 

Kenny started to disagree, but shrugged it off before retorting, “I’m Kenneth, I’m 15/16ths Jew and 1/16th Cherokee—“ 

“Do a  _ real _ one!” 

Kenny smirked and surrendered, “I’m Kenny, any pronouns are fine, and I like everything that walks on two legs and can vote.” 

“I hate that.” Reed shot back with a scrunched nose. 

“Who’s sharin’ their person today?” Kenny reiterated humorously. 

“It’s me,” Lexi answered, raising to her feet with a sheet of paper in her hand. 

Before she began, Kenny leaned over to explain, “Right now they’re all taking turns researching famous or important queer people through history and doing super short reports on them.” 

Stan nodded, feeling a swell of admiration for the person beside him. After hearing the phrase any pronouns are fine come from Kenny, he was a bit anxious on how to refer to him. He pushed the thought away and listened to Lexi deliver a short synopsis of Lili Elbe’s life and death, which brought frowns across everyone’s faces. 

Kenny clapped a couple of times, “That was great, Lexi, thank you for sharin’. Any thoughts on Ms. Elbe?” 

“Why do I just feel like not much has changed? I mean, we’re not gonna die of infections from botched gender reassignment surgeries anymore, but I still feel like it’s pretty much impossible to get any treatment for a lot of folx.” Cathleen was the first to chime in, which sort of took Stan by surprise considering she was not overly talkative or expressive in his class. 

Elliot nodded at his girlfriend, “Yeah, I got a coworker at Menards whose trans, and half the story constantly misgenders him, which pisses me off, but he was talking to me about how he won’t be able to afford even hormones for a long ass time and I just feel so shitty for him.” 

The conversation built and morphed into similar and completely dissimilar topics, and Stan was impressed with how well-informed and critical the students were of queer issues and just  _ life _ in general. Though Stan had his fair share of identity confusing growing up bisexual, he felt as though each one of them  _ knew _ so much more about it than him.  _ Especially _ Kenny. 

Everything that came out of Kenny’s mouth made Stan even more enthralled with him. The combination of effortlessly hilarious, unwaveringly kind, and incredibly intellectual and informed blew him away. He wished the club could run all night—not even minding that a bunch of teenagers would be there if he could just hear Kenny in his element, talking and connecting with people. 

u

Unfortunately, Kenny only took up about an hour of their time in the group, and one by one the teenagers thanked Kenny and bid them both farewell. Soon it was only Stan and Kenny, who strolled out of the space and toward the faculty parking lot side-by-side. 

“Man, I really wish every school had one of these clubs. It’s crazy awesome,” Stan gushed as they passed through the library door. 

“Thanks! I wish every school did, too. Queer kids bein’ alone and uninformed is almost as bad for them as being bullied for being themselves. Maybe even worse, I dunno.” 

Stan nodded, “But it’s really necessary. I mean, kid’s deserve to hear the history of people like them and not just an endless brigade lf white men fucking up the planet and society simultaneously.”

Kenny barked a laugh. “Yup. Part of why I never passed history with more than a D.” 

The two continued to chat casually until they reached Kenny’s beat-up, old Honda. Before they parted ways, they ended up standing around and talking for another twenty minutes, both intent on ignoring the weather reddening their noses. When they finally resolved to part ways, Stan finally obtained the courage to pose a question that he had been warming up to slip into the conversation the entire time, “By the way, what you said in class today about using all pronouns… Is there any preference? Like, should I call you  _ they _ instead of  _ he _ or anything?” 

A broad smile stretched Kenny’s pretty lips. He paused for a moment before shaking his head, “He’s fine, really, I appreciate you asking though. The kids always try and bait me into talking about how I’m genderfluid, so, I like to annoy ‘em when they do.” 

“Oh, okay,” Stan said with a nervous smile. “Well, I was just making sure, thanks.” 

“Thanks for coming! You’re invited back next week if you’ll have us.” Kenny offered with a wink before he climbed into the passenger’s side of his vehicle. 

Stan waved before finishing the short journey to his car. He felt refreshed and a sense of community that he had never quite felt in several years of teaching. 

Perhaps he was starting to actually  _ like _ South Park. 


End file.
